Freedom

Are you free
because you have nothing left to take
and nowhere more to fall,
or because you have it all
and would put everything at stake?

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A Second

Just wait a second,
I’ll be right back. 

You do, you wait.
You don’t turn around
to see the look,
the foreign smile,
the rolling of the eyes.
You don’t say
I love you, or
I’m sorry.
You don’t call out for her
to stop,
you don’t go chasing.
In that feeble moment,
in that fraction of the time,
you decide not to talk,
or run, or cry,
not to step away,
to stand still
for a bit too long.
The moment ticked away
and passed.

You waited
just a second.

Sleep

a lonely body                                 a company of two
in a bed for two                             a bed made for one
warmth                                             the heat
and empty space                          of uncovered bodies
only pillows                                    the cold creeps in
to rest your head                           the smell of sweat
the air light                                      rustling sheets
and oh, so quiet                             and heavy breathing
laying flat                                         squeezed into a corner
with room right next to you       a kick, a push
for the invisible love                     to claim your side
that keeps you cold                       reaching out in darkness
cry out in the night                        a hand waiting
and feel the silence                       an arm wrapped round your body
calling back                                      bow-tied embrace
toss and turn                                    restrain from moving

fall asleep
and dream
then wake up

and fall                                                    and land

 

Reflection

I stare
into a mirror.
I try to see
everything I am,
but the face looking back
is not my own.
I stare
and it stares right back at me –
it’s skin is pale,
eyes dark,
as if everything they felt
melted down inside them
and slipped into
the hidden corners of the mind.
The eyes blink
and I try not to,
but fail
and never notice
the tear
falling off the eyelashes
and hitting the ground.
Then the face smiles
and leans in
to whisper me a secret.
But I cannot hear,
and as the face
tries to move away,
I reach out my hand
to stop it.
My fingers stretch out,
feel for something cold,
and are stopped
from moving.
They rest flat
on the ice-cold surface,
tapping for that
unreachable, smiling face,
and just when they feel
they’re about to touch it,
the smile fades,
and everything I am
slips away
into the darkness
of the mirror.

A Little Magic

To walk a flight of stairs.
To cry a silent tear,
to wipe it off
and swallow down.
To hold out a hand,
to kneel on both knees,
to hang your head –
and then, to get back up,
to shake off the dust,
to straighten your back.
To smile
when you can.
And to smile
when you can’t.
To touch and talk,
to sing and see.
To breathe.
It’s all
just a little bit
of magic …